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THE  LAND 


OF  THE 


AIOUWAS 


A 


EDWIN  FORD  PIPER 


BY 

EDWIN  FOED  PIPER 


THE  MIDLAND  PRESS 

IOWA  CITY,  IOWA 

1922 


COPYRIGHT,    1922 

BY 
EDWIN  FORD   PIPER 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESKBVED 


To  MY  SISTEE  ELLA 


For  permission  to  reprint  some  of  the 
lyrics  of  the  book  the  author  is  indebted 
to  the  courtesy  of  Poetry  and  the 
the  courtesy  of  The  Midland. 


THE  LAND  OP  THE  AIOUWAS 

A  MASQUE 


BY 

EDWIN  FORD  PIPEB 


THE  MIDLAND  PRESS 
IOWA  CITY,  IOWA 

1922 


COPYRIGHT,   1922 

BY 
EDWIN  FORD   PIPER 


ALL  RIGHTS  REBKBVKD 


To  MY  SISTEE  ELLA 


For  permission  to  reprint  some  of  the 
lyrics  of  the  book  the  author  is  indebted 
to  the  courtesy  of  Poetry  and  the 
the  courtesy  of  The  Midland. 


PERFORMED  UNDER  THE  AUSPICES  OF  THE 
STATE  UNIVERSITY  OF  IOWA  AT  ITS 
DIAMOND  JUBILEE  CELEBRATION, 
FEBRUARY  24,  AND  FEBRUARY  25,  1922. 


Book  by  EDWIN  FORD  PIPER 
Drawings  by  KATHRYN  DAYTON  AURNER 
Music  by  PHILIP  GREELEY  CLAPP 
Director  of  the  Masque,  EDWARD  C.  MABIE 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 
A  MASQUE 

EDWIN  FOBD  PIPEB 
DRAMATIS  PEBSONAE 

JOLIBT 

MABQUETTE 

DUMONT,  a  young  poet 

BUFFALO  HORN,  the  great  chief 

BED  FEATHER,  subordinate  chief 

EVENING  SKY,  a  medicine  man 

SHADOW-OF-THE-WOLF,  the  Calumet  dancer 

The  son  of  BUFFALO  HOBN 

Squaws,  Warriors,  Singers,  Young  Men,  Children 

BISON,  DEER,  BABBIT,  TURKEY,  PLOVER,  QUAIL 
PLUMS,  BERRIES,  GRAPES 

WHITE  MAIZE,  YELLOW  MAIZE,  BED  MAIZE,  BLUE  MAIZE, 
ALL  COLORS  OF  THE  MAIZE 

EARTH  MOTHER.    YOUNG  MEN  ;  BOVERS,  DWELLERS 
SPIRITS  OF  FLOCKS,  FRUITS,  WIND,  SUN,  WATERS,  TREES 
SPIRIT  OF  THE  LAND 
BROTHER  OF  APRIL,  SISTER  OF  SUMMER,  DAUGHTER  OF  THE 

MOONRISE 
COYOTE,  an  Elder  Brother  (grotesque) 

Indian  Hunter,  Squaw  and  Children 
White  Settler  and  Family 
Hunters  and  Trappers 
Woodmen,  Farmers,  Carpenters,  Drovers 
Schoolmistress,  School  Children 
Teamsters,  Factory  Hands,  Mechanics 
Architects,  Builders,  Engineers 
Scholars,  Artists,  Musicians 


10  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 

Setting: 

Woods  on  the  Iowa  shore  of  the  Mississippi;  trees  in 
the  foreground,  thicket  at  rear,  log  at  edge  of 
thicket.  On  one  wing  suggestion  of  river  back- 
ground, on  the  other,  lodges  of  the  Indians. 

Enter  Joliet  and  Dumont. 

JOLIET.  Wilderness,  wilderness!  No  sea  to  end  it? 
Those  red  men,  —  they  have  left  you  the  long  yellow  hair. 
Ah,  Dumont,  they  will  hear  you  shouting  out  poetry, 
again. 

DUMONT.  Yes,  still  mine  (touching  his  hair).  They 
knew  I  was  not  spying.  But  Joliet,  you  do  not  lack  the 
eye  to  see.  This  is  not  wilderness,  this  is  a  great  country, 
the  New  France!  That  is  why  I  gallop  in  metre.  Will 
you  hear? 

JOLIET.  Yes,  for  a  New  France.  But  don't  whoop  it 
out  the  way  you  did  yesterday. 

DUMONT.  Ouch !  Your  words  bite.  But  I  forgive  you. 
Come,  tie  up  your  grouchy  voice.  I  speak  to  your  heart, 
to  your  ardor  for  your  country. 

Bound  for  the  southern  gulf, 
Or  bound  for  the  western  ocean, 
The  Father  of  Waters  leads,  — 
We  follow,  —  we  follow. 

On  the  sunset  shore  of  the  river 
In  the  land  of  the  Aiouwans 
The  prairies  lift  and  roll 
In  pageantry  of  summer. 
With  bee  and  with  bird 
The  wilderness  is  singing 
And  the  brooks  hum  low 
To  the  sweet  wild  grasses. 

0,  the  seeker  moves 
Over  ways  untrodden 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  11 

Amid  roses  unfolding 

In  the  open  meadows ; 

There  is  elfin  dancing 

Of  the  dews  and  shadows 

On  the  bitter-sweet 

Where  the  blackbirds  chuckle; 

Spirits  are  weaving 

In  the  sunset  meadows 

A  mystery  of  beauty 

Purple-dim. 

JOLIET.  Bravo,  Dumont.  Curse  these  mosquitos. 
And  so  you,  you  do  not  mind  these  humming  jaws,  nor 
that  under  your  sunburn  your  nose  is  peeling  like  an 
onion. 

DUMONT.  Monsieur  Joliet,  I  have  been  told  that  in 
heaven  there  are  neither  fleas  nor  chiggers;  yet  I  am  in 
no  haste  to  come  to  my  quarters  there.  Our  day's  job  is 
irritating  and  absorbing.  And  if  the  words  of  the  old 
Indian  be  true,  — 

JOLIET.  To  turn  from  the  Father  of  Waters  back  up 
the  Smoky  Stream  running  in  from  the  right,  to  swing 
off  west  on  the  Shallow  Water  to  its  source,  to  carry 
through  the  mountain  passes  and  shoot  down  a  great 
river  to  the  salty  sea  of  the  west,  —  journeying  many, 
many  sleeps,  many  moons.  New  horizons,  new  troubles, 
the  painted  cannibals,  human  sacrifice !  It  is  worthy  an 
Odysseus.  Curse  these  mosquitos. 

DUMONT.  We  might  be  on  his  pilgrimage  to  the  men 
who  eat  no  salt,  who  know  not  the  oar.  We  could  build 
among  them  that  altar  to  the  unknown  God. 

JOLIET.  Well,  they  have  their  medicine  men,  their  sor- 
cerers, magicians. 

DUMONT.  I  watched  the  last  one;  hardly  a  sorcerer. 
Rather  a  poet,  a  maker  of  phantasy,  I  think.  Joliet,  what 
say  you  to  our  sweet  new  land? 


12  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 

JOLIET  (reading). 

"Bound  for  the  southern  gulf 
Or  bound  for  the  western  ocean, 
The  Father  of  Waters  leads,  — 
We  follow,  we  follow. ' ' 

Bravo,  Dumont,  the  wilderness  is  Prance.  But  phantasy, 
foh!  a  necklace  of  stone,  and  into  the  water  with  the 
lousy  jade!  She  blocked  your  trigger  finger  yesterday. 
Phantasy !  Name  of  a  name  of  a  mosquito ! 

DUMONT.    No,  Joliet,  no.    It  helps  one  to  see.    And  I, 
—  I  am  not  quite  the  fool  of  phantasy. 

JOLIET.    Yonder  is  Father  Marquette.    Come. 
Joliet  and  Dumont  go  out  through  the  trees. 

Before  the  lodges. 

Enter  Evening  Sky,  medicine  stick  in  hand,  and  robe 
of  sunset  colors  folded  across  his  arm. 

EVENING  SKY.    Old  Man  Coyote  is  not  come,  the  fleet- 
footed  bringer  of  news.     (Seats  himself.) 
Shall  we  find  a  counsel?  the  winds  blow, 
Shaping  and  shifting  the  soft-lipped  clouds. 
I  remember  the  winter ;  the  long  black  nights 
Wrestled  to  throw  me  down  to  their  darkness. 
Storms  are  my  teachers. 

My  soul  endures. 

Our  elder  brothers,  Hawk  and  Buffalo, 
Beaver  and  Bear,  sat  in  silence  with  me, 
Thinking  of  life.    Under  bitter  snows 
I  spoke  with  Wolf  —  the  Gray  Wolf,  — 
Under  snows,  bitter  snows. 

Like  signals  in  the  sky  the  colors  move. 
The  east  wind  told  me,  the  waters  told  me,  — 
They  come,  the  white  of  skin, 
With  strange  wisdoms. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  13 

Shall  we  ask  a  counsel 

Out  of  the  hurricane?  or  commune  with  sunsets? 
They  come,  bringing  — 

The  drum  gives  danger  notes.  Enter  Buffalo  Horn; 
warriors  with  weapons  rush  across  the  stage.  Buffalo 
Horn  gives  signals. 

Voices  heard: 
Halloo!    Ho,  ho! 
The  drum  again. 

SQUAWS  (rushing  to  cover).  The  Dakotah!  Where? 
How  many? 

Warriors  move  to  the  point  of  alarm;  scouts  in  other 
directions. 

VOICES.    Halloo!    Ho.  ho! 
SQUAWS.    Where?    How  many? 
The  white  men  appear. 
THE  WHITE  MEN.    Halloo !    Ho,  ho ! 
The  drum  again.    Buffalo  Horn  steps  into  the  open, 
BUFFALO  HORN.    Call  them  back. 
Drum  ceases.    A  flute  sounds. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  The  Black  Gown  bears  a  calumet. 
Lead  them  hither. 

Red  Feather  conducts  the  white  men,  with  all  respect, 
to  the  lodge  where  Buffalo  Horn  stands  erect  with  hand 
extended  toward  the  sun.  At  the  direction  of  the  chief 
two  Indians  bring  as  gifts  a  belt  and  moccasins. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  How  beautiful  the  sun  is,  0  French- 
men, when  you  come  to  visit  us!  Enter  our  dwellings. 

JOLIET  (offering  cloth  and  beads).  We  bring  tokens  of 
friendship. 

MAEQUETTE.    Our  hearts  thank  you  and  bless  yon. 

As  they  move  to  enter,  the  drum  sounds  three  sharp 
rolls,  and  two  Indians  rush  in  dragging  the  dishevelled 
Dumont. 

FIRST  INDIAN.    0  Chief,  a  skulker! 
SECOND  INDIAN.    A  spy  in  the  thicket ! 


14  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWA8 

BUFFALO  HORN.  Is  this  some  trap!  Why  were  you 
hidden? 

DUMONT  (to  Joliet).  I  was  not  hiding.  There  is  a 
little  lake.  The  lotus,  the  lotus  grows  there. 

JOLIET  (to  Buffalo  Horn).  Our  poet,  Dumont,  Chief 
Buffalo  Horn.  A  little  cracked  up  here,  you  know. 

BUFFALO  HORN  (to  Joliet).  And  what  is  your  word  to 
him? 

JOLIET  (to  Dumont).  You're  a  goner,  old  man,  a  goner, 
beard,  bones  and  buttons!  If  you  ever  get  back  to  a 
tombstone,  yours  will  be  inscribed  Phantasy. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  So  that  is  how  the  gods  have  blessed 
him.  Well,  turn  him  over  to  Evening  Sky.  Come,  enter 
unto  peace. 

They  go  out,  leaving  Dumont  alone  with  Evening  Sky 
who  assumes  his  magic  robe,  seats  himself  on  the  grass, 
and  after  a  little  pause  speaks. 

EVENING  SKY.  Land  and  water  offer  us  of  their  plenty. 
What  the  mind  sees  is  no  creature,  what  the  heart  hears  is 
no  voice.  The  roof  of  the  sky  was  open  and  gifts  de- 
scended; the  pulse  of  Mother  Earth  beat  loud  in  a  tune,  a 
song.  Vision  and  token  are  old,  are  come  down  from  the 
first  of  things.  He  that  hath  eyes  and  ears,  let  him  hear, 
let  him  see.  Behold  the  symbols  of  the  feast. 

Music.  From  the  left  enter,  dancing,  Bison,  Deer,  and 
Hare,  and  move  across  the  stage  to  the  right;  as  they 
reverse  their  steps  and  return  to  the  left,  Turkey,  Quail, 
and  Plover  dance  on  from  the  right. 

After  the  execution  of  their  figures  the  music  changes 
to  represent  the  hunter  and  the  hunted,  and  the  animals 
and  birds  dance  off  the  stage. 

Enter  from  the  left,  Maize,  All-Colors,  and  recites  the 
lyric  of  the  maize. 

THE  MAIZE. 

The  slanting  rain  comes  down  in  May, 

The  May  sun  shines ; 
The  smell  of  the  loam  is  rich  in  May, 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AW U WAS  15 

And  the  May  sun  shines 
On  the  shoots, 
Green  shoots ; 
Beat  the  drum, 
Let  us  dance; 
Behold  the  springing  of  the  maize. 

The  green  leaves  bow  to  the  left  and  the  right, 

Heavy  with  dew; 

They  strike  the  knees,  they  brush  the  breast, 
And  the  tassel  plume 

Shakes  delicate  bloom 
On  the  morning  air; 
Beat  the  drum, 
Let  us  dance 
The  joyous  carol  of  the  maize. 

The  wind  spoke  gently  to  the  growing  ear, 

"Your  silken  hair  is  tawny." 
The  sun  spoke  loud  to  the  ripening  ear : 
"Let  husk  and  kernels  harden." 
Then  feast 
On  the  maize ; 
Beat  the  drum, 
Let  us  dance 
For  the  sacred  feast  of  the  maize. 

Dance  music;  from  the  left  Bed  Maize  and  White  Maize 
dance  on;  from  the  right  Yellow  Maize  and  Blue  Maize. 

As  the  Maize  dance  ends,  the  earlier  music  is  resumed, 
and  from  the  right  dance  on  Plums  and  Berries;  from 
the  left  Grapes.  As  the  music  continues  the  birds  and 
animals  return  for  the  ensemble.  Music  changes  to  the 
hunter  and  the  hunted  and  carries  the  dancers  off. 

OLD  MAX  COYOTE  (behind  the  thicket).     Oh-hu-lm-ho, 
ho-ho ! 
DUMONT.    What  is  that? 


16  THE  LAND  OF  THE  A1OUWAS 

EVENING  SKY.  Nothing,  only  Old  Man  Coyote  laugh- 
ing. 

OLD  MAN  COYOTE  (comes  on  singing). 
The  beasts  of  the  wood  put  out  their  claws,  — 

Oh-hu-hu-ho,  ho-ho ! 

They  smack  their  lips  and  they  lick  their  jaws,  — 
Oh-hu-hu-ho,  ho-ho ! 

Bones  and  all,  bones  and  all; 
We  gobble  them  bones  and  all ! 

My  snout  offers  honorable  greeting,  Evening  Sky.  But 
hello,  who's  your  friend? 

EVENING  SKY.    Dumont,  a  maker  of  phantasy. 

COYOTE.  Greetings,  Dumont;  my  snout  bows  low  to 
you  and  to  Evening  Sky.  A  hard  nut,  a  hard  heart,  he 
cracks  'em.  But  what  is  phan  —  phantasy  ? 

DUMONT.  Phantasy,  sir,  is  a  drink  of  air ;  the  flavor  of 
an  imaginary  sausage. 

COYOTE.  Imaginary  sausage.  (Licks  his  chops.)  But 
what  does  the  belly  say?  To  the  crows  with  phantasy. 

Bones  and  all,  bones  and  all,  — 
We  gobble  them  bones  and  all. 

EVENING  SKY.  We  must  humor  him  under  the  full 
moon  or  he  may  run  mad.  Hearken,  I  hear  a  song,  young 
men  singing  the  midsummer  rites  of  the  Earth  Mother. 
She  makes  answer  out  of  her  bounty. 

Music.    Enter  Earth  Mother  and  Young  Men. 

YOUNG  MEN  (full  chorus).    The  Earth  is  our  mother, 
—  happy,  loving  mother,  — 

EARTH  MOTHEB.  Put  your  lips  to  my  breast,  comfort 
ye,  my  children. 

YOUNG  MEN. 

After  the  heat  of  the  chase,  her  springs  are  cool-flowing ; 
After  the  wearisome  journey,  luscious  her  scarlet  berries ; 
The  plum  has  a  delicate  bloom,  in  autumn  sunlight  bask- 
ing. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  17 

EAKTH  MOTHER. 
Feast  ye,  my  children,  couch  on  the  fragrant  grasses. 

YOUNG  MEN. 
Day-long  the  paddle  song  — 

EABTH  MOTHEB.  Rest  ye,  my  eager  ones. 

YOUNG  MEN. 
Now  for  the  blessed  maize,  we  thank  thee,  Mother. 

EARTH  MOTHER. 

Best  in  peace  on  the  power  of  my  spirit. 
Put  your  lips  to  my  breast,  comfort  ye,  my  children. 

The  song  ceases.  Strains  of  soft  music  die  away. 
From  the  lodge  of  the  feast  voices  are  heard  as  if  the 
f casters  are  rising. 

Evening  Sky  lays  aside  his  magic  robe,  and  with  Du- 
mont  and  Old  Man  Coyote  retires  to  a  log  at  the  edge  of 
the  thicket. 

Enter  from  the  feast,  Joliet,  Marquette,  Buffalo  Horn, 
Red  Feather,  and  other  Indians,  and  the  young  son  of 
Buffalo  Horn. 

JOLIET.    Always  south? 

BUFFALO  HORN.    Always  south. 

JOLIET.  Into  the  Gulf,  then.  We  seek  also  the  Big 
Water  of  the  Sunset. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  The  Dakotah,  eager  for  scalps,  will 
block  your  way. 

JOLIET.  We  should  find  Quivera,  the  rich  mines,  golden 
cities. 

BUFFALO  HORN.    A  tale,  a  cloud-land.    Abide. 

JOLIET.  We  are  under  orders.  Our  chief  bids  us  fol- 
low the  great  river. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  My  friends,  the  way  is  full  of  perils, 
disease,  demons.  On  the  lower  stream  hostile  bands  kill 
those  who  would  reach  the  Gulf.  Abide  here  in  peace 
and  plenty.  Commune  with  our  wise  men,  our  young 
men. 

MARQUETTE.  We  are  deeply  grateful,  Buffalo  Horn. 
Tonight,  we  remain.  Accept,  now,  our  brotherly  tokens. 


18  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 

This  cross  is  a  witness  from  the  All-Father.  He  sends  us 
that  He  may  be  made  known  to  all  the  peoples.  This 
medal  is  a  testimony  from  Monsieur  the  Count  de  Fron- 
tenac,  the  great  captain  of  the  French.  He  has  subdued 
the  Iroquois.  He  desires  your  friendship. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  All  honor  to  the  worthy  tokens !  How 
good  it  is,  my  Brother,  that  you  should  visit  us!  Here 
is  my  gift,  my  son,  from  my  heart  to  your  heart. 

MARQUETTE.  Let  him  be  a  son  to  us  both.  All  blessing 
upon  him,  and  upon  you. 

JOLIET.    Grant  now  your  witness  to  the  peace. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  Tarry  this  night.  In  company  we  will 
celebrate  the  calumet  rite. 

All  except  Evening  Sky,  Dumont,  and  Coyote  enter  the 
lodges.  Music.  Voices  are  heard  singing. 

SINGLE  VOICE. 

There  was  war  in  the  land ; 

Drums  and  weapons  were  calling. 

The  bowstring  twanged,  the  arrow  sang,  — 
CHORUS. 

Peace,  let  there  be  peace. 
SINGLE  VOICE. 

For  I  worship  the  Calumet, 

And  a  dream  subdues  my  passion ; 

A  wreath  for  the  Manitou, 

And  a  wreath  for  the  sun  in  heaven. 
CHORUS. 

Peace,  let  there  be  peace. 
SINGLE  VOICE. 

I  hear  the  gentle  babbling 

Of  water  over  the  pebbles ; 

And  the  leaves  of  the  willow  turn  and  stir 

With  a  happy  sound,  as  light,  as  light 

As  the  breath  of  sleeping  children. 
CHORUS. 

Peace,  let  there  be  peace. 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  A10UWAS  19 

During  the  singing  of  this  lyric  the  stage  is  being  pre- 
pared for  the  rite  of  the  Calumet.  Warriors  spread  a 
large  painted  mat  of  rushes;  upon  it  they  place  a  spirit- 
bundle;  at  the  right  of  this,  the  Calumet.  All  around  as 
trophies  to  the  Calumet  stand  clubs,  war-hatchets,  bows, 
arrows,  quivers,  spears. 

Enter  Buffalo  Horn,  Joliet,  Marquette,  Ked  Feather, 
Warriors. 

When  the  singers  ivith  lighted  pipes  move  out  on  the 
stage  each  in  turn  salutes  the  Calumet  by  blowing  smoke 
toward  it  reverentially,  as  if  offering  incense,  then  takes 
a  seat  in  the  semicircle  under  the  branches. 

Buffalo  Horn,  Joliet,  Marquette,  and  Red  Feather  seat 
themselves  in  the  semicircle.  The  dancer  appears  in  the 
middle  of  the  assembly.  He  offers  the  pipe  (taken  from 
the  mat)  to  the  sun,  stem  first,  as  if  for  the  sun  to  taste. 
He  offers  it  to  the  earth,  then  to  the  four  winds  in  turn. 
He  makes  it  spread  its  wings  as  if  about  to  fly.  Then  he 
offers  it  to  the  singers  that  each  may  taste  it.  All  is  done 
in  cadence. 

The  drum  begins.  The  dancer  signals  a  warrior  to 
take  arms  from  the  mat  and  enter  the  combat.  The  war- 
rior approaches  with  arrow,  bow,  and  war-hatchet,  and 
begins  the  duel  against  the  dancer  whose  sole  defense  is 
the  Calumet.  There  is  attack  and  defense;  blows  are 
parried;  flight  and  pursuit,  the  pursued  facing  about  and 
becoming  the  pursuer.  All  is  danced  ivith  slow,  measured 
steps  to  the  drums  and  voices. 

The  dance  ends. 

DANCER.  When  I,  Shadow-of-the-Wolf,  first  became  a 
warrior,  I  accompanied  my  father,  Swift  Hawk,  and 
seven  other  hunters  far  up  the  river  of  the  Cedars.  The 
Dakotah  in  war  paint  came  to  us.  Of  our  band,  I  with 
four  others,  brought  home  eleven  scalps.  My  father 
sleeps  by  the  river  of  the  Cedars. 

Now  I  will  smoke  the  Calumet  with  Black-Gown  and 
the  Frenchman. 


20  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 

I  was  with  Buffalo  Horn  when  he  chased  the  Osage 
from  our  hunting  ground. 

I  was  with  Bed  Feather  when  the  Dakotah  set  fire  to 
the  woods  to  burn  our  village. 

Four  years  since  I  crossed  the  prairie  from  the  Moin- 
gonan  to  the  Pekitanoui.  On  this  shore  of  the  river  I 
fought  two  Pawnee  warriors.  I  came  home  with  a  wound, 
but  their  scalp-locks  hang  in  my  lodge. 

Now  I  will  smoke  the  peace-pipe  with  Black-Gown  and 
the  Frenchman. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  Brave  deeds  are  well  remembered. 
The  Calumet  dance  is  an  honor  to  our  tribe  and  to  the 
dancer.  Accept  this  beaver  robe,  0  Shadow-of-the-Wolf. 
Our  guests  shall  forever  be  our  friends. 

Shadow-of-the-Wolf  places  the  Calumet  in  the  hands 
of  Buffalo  Horn,  who  draws  smoke,  then  passes  the  pipe 
to  Joliet;  the  pipe  is  sent  on  around  the  council,  and  re- 
turned to  Buffalo  Horn. 

BUFFALO  HORN.  Together  we  have  worshipped  the 
peace.  Between  us  it  is  sacred,  everlasting.  This  Calu- 
met is  the  witness  from  us  to  you.  (Buffalo  Horn  pre- 
sents the  Calumet  to  Joliet.) 

The  singers  on  the  stage  take  up  the  song. 
SINGLE  VOICE. 

Alone,  I  found  the  teepees 

And  many  a  hostile  warrior ; 

I  bear  with  me  the  strength  of  their  chief,  — 

His  scalp-lock  at  my  girdle. 

My  tomahawk  is  red, 

And  I  lead  their  women  captive,  — 

War,  war,  red  war  in  the  land ! 
CHORUS. 

Peace,  let  there  be  peace. 
SINGLE  VOICE. 

For  I  worship  the  sacred  pipe, 

And  a  dream  subdues  my  passion, 

A  wreath  for  the  Manitou, 

And  a  wreath  for  the  sun  in  heaven,  — 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  21 

CHORUS. 

Peace,  let  there  be  peace. 
SINGLE  VOICE. 

For  my  body  loves  the  touch  of  the  grass 

In  the  falling  afternoon ; 

My  body  loves  the  touch  of  the  grass 

And  the  kiss  of  the  sinking  sun. 

And  I  hear  the  mourning  dove,  - 

I  echo  her  on  my  flute : 

I  am  here  my  love,  I  am  here  my  love,  — 
CHORUS. 

Peace,  let  there  be  peace. 

All  except  Evening  Sky,  Dumont,  and  Coyote  enter  the 
lodges.  They  watch  the  sunset  lights  through  the  trees. 
After  a  pause. 

COYOTE. 

0,  once  I  was  a  god,  a  god —  (turns  his  nose  to 

the  sky  and  howls). 

DUMONT.    And  therefore  you  mourn  to  the  moon  I 
COYOTE.    A  habit  at  sunset.    I  worship  the  light  and  I 
mourn  for  my  father. 
DUMONT.    Your  father! 

COYOTE.  A  frightful  sickness  carried  him  off.  He  died 
of  a  phantasy. 

For  the  bat-folk  rule  the  roads  of  the  dark, 

Shooting  arrows  at  the  moon ; 
They  snare  the  sun  in  the  lotus  pool, 
And  night  comes  soon. 
Night  —  soon. 

My  father  tried  to  save  the  sun, 
But  quicksands  rise  and  rise; 
Above  his  knee,  around  his  neck, 

And  the  fish  make  love  to  his  eyes,  — 

Amber  eyes.    (Mourns  again.) 

EVENING  SKY.  Be  comforted.  This  is  Midsummer 
Even.  Under  the  blessing  of  the  pipe  we  may  be  fortu- 
nate in  dream  and  vision. 


22  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 

Evening  Sky  assumes  his  magic  robe.    Smoke  and  in- 
cense.   Soft  music.    Enter  as  he  names  them,  the  spirits. 

EVENING  SKY.    Lo,  as  of  old,  the  Spirit  of  the  Land. 
Rovers  and  Dwellers,  plead  for  her  favor,  while  Waters, 
Trees,  Winds,  Sun,  Fruits,  Flocks,  follow  her.    Hearken 
to  the  Rovers. 
ROVERS  (chant). 

The  Earth  is  our  mother,  a  mystery  of  beauty,  — 
Sold?    Wounded? —  Never! 
The  comfort  of  her  spirit  is  the  sunlight ; 
With  joy,  with  love  she  feeds  us. 
0  Mother  Earth ! 
DWELLERS  (chant). 

Nourish  the  Dwellers !    Love  the  Dwellers ! 
The  sky  loves  the  stars. 
How  shall  you  bear  if  you  be  not  wounded  ? 
The  dusk  is  wounded  by  stars. 
Bison  fail,  and  forests  fall, — 
Flocks  will  follow,  sheaves  will  cluster ; 
Body  and  spirit  have  motherly  uses,  — 
O  Mother  Earth! 

EVENING  SKY.    She  chooses  the  Dwellers. 
ROVERS  (chant). 
Rovers,  Rovers,  disinherited, 
Into  new  wilderness  we  depart.    (Rovers  go  out.) 
EVENING  SKY.    Come,  Spirits,  give  welcome. 
WATER  SPIRIT. 

Drink  of  our  plenteous  springs, 
And  move  on  our  waters. 
TREES. 

Under  shadowy  branches 
Find  grateful  rest. 
SUNSHINE. 

I  kiss  your  cheek  and  your  blowing  hair, 
Over  the  flower  and  the  dew. 
WINDS. 

We  the  wanderers 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  23 

From  the  world's  corners, 

Name  this  your  homeland, 

Land  of  the  Aiouwans. 
FLOCKS. 

In  blossoming  meadows 

The  wild  flock  is  feeding; 

Your  step,  your  voice,  — 

We  welcome  the  master. 
FRUITS. 

Blossom  on  vine,  and  blossom  in  thicket, 

Laden  tendrils  and  branches  that  bend,  — 

For  the  Dweller !    For  the  master ! 
DWELLERS. 

The  earth  is  our  mother, 

The  sky  is  our  father, 

They  love  and  cherish  us  forever. 

Soft  music;  the  spirits  steal  away  as  if  dismissed  by 
Evening  Sky.  As  the  music  deepens  in  magic,  enter 
Brother  of  April,  Sister  of  Summer,  and  Daughter  of  the 
Moonrise,  and  make  as  if  they  would  dance.  Coyote  joins 
them.  Evening  Sky  signals  to  them. 

EVENING  SKY.  Brother  of  April,  and  Daughter  of  the 
Moonrise,  stand  you  here;  you,  Sister  of  Summer,  over 
yonder;  and  you,  Coyote,  a  little  more  retired.  There  is 
a  singing  in  the  air.  Hearken.  When  it  pauses,  begin 
your  dance. 

(Chorus  off  stage.) 

When  sunlight  marries  the  swaying  branches, 

With  shadowy  dancings  the  rite  is  said, 

To  the  crooning  of  easeful  winds  and  waters 

Whispering  often,  "I  love  you,  I  love  you." 

Now  in  wedded  lilies  the  juices  bubble, 

And  saps  make  music  about  the  heart; 

With  flower  on  flower  the  spring  is  yearning 

For  the  Easter  of  love,  the  sacrament  of  love, 

The  passion  of  the  earth  and  the  passion  of  the  sky, 

Whispering  often,  "I  love  you,  I  love  you." 


24  THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS 

The  earth  and  the  sky  are  beloved  and  lover, 
And  the  sky  bends  low; 
Sunset  and  moonrise,  intimate  glances, 
Soft  bright  hair,  the  soothing  of  twilights, 
Lip  to  delicate  lip  responsive, — 
Bending  low. 

Dance  of  the  four  ending  with  Brother  of  April  and 
Daughter  of  the  Moonrise  as  foreground  figures. 

(Chorus  off  stage.) 

And  this  is  the  joy  of  all  generations, 

Branches  are  bare  and  leaves  are  singing, 

And  the  hard  f rnits  are  rounding  and  coloring,  — 

Goodly  is  the  bliss  when  a  child  is  born ! 

Lips  at  the  breast,  baby  lips  at  the  breast,  — 

0  Mother  Earth! 

The  wolf  cub  shall  sleep  on  his  dam's  shaggy  coat, 

And  the  spotted  fawn  nuzzle  the  udder ; 

The  infant  fairy  cradled  in  violets 

Suck  with  a  mouth  so  dewy  delicate ; 

And  human  children  shall  still  their  cries,  — 

Lips  at  the  breast,  baby  lips  at  the  breast ! 

0  Mother  Earth! 

Dance  of  the  four  which  carries  all  of  them  off  the 
stage  except  Coyote  who  takes  a  position  at  the  log  in 
the  rear. 

The  music  changes.  An  Indian  hunter  with  squaw  and 
children  crosses  the  stage  as  if  retreating  from  the  land. 

EVENING  SKY. 

The  vision  broadens,  my  own  race  passes 
As  runs  the  shadow  of  an  April  cloud ; 
And  the  white  men  come,  shaping  and  coloring 
The  land  with  their  lives,  — 
Behold !  —  Hearken ! 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  25 

Dumont  comes  forward  and  stands  beside  Evening 
Sky.  The  wand  changes  into  his  grasp.  Evening  Sky 
lifts  his  hands  in  blessing  and  then  begins  his  retreat  to  a 
position  beside  Coyote.  Music  in  the  pauses  interpreting 
the  changes. 

Enter  Hunters  and  Trappers ;  they  move  slowly  across 
the  stage. 

DUMONT. 

In  the  wilderness  the  rifles  bellow 

To  scurry  and  flurry  of  wing  and  paw ; 

The  deer  feed  far  from  the  native  thicket. 

Enter  Woodmen,  Carpenters,  Farmers,  Drovers ;  their 
families  follow;  a  Schoolmistress  with  a  group  of  chil- 
dren. 

DUMONT. 

Axe  and  hammer  echo  in  rivers ; 
Cowbells  tinkle,  schoolbells  clang. 
By  bridge  and  hill  the  wagons  rattle. 

Enter  Teamsters,  Factory  Workers,  Mechanics. 

DUMONT. 

Tasseling  corn  waves  in  the  wind; 
Above  tall  chimneys  tasseling  smoke. 
Over  trafficking  cities  a  blur  of  smoke. 
The  vision  grows !    Behold,  hearken ! 

The  music  assumes  anew  range  and  passes  from  splen- 
dor to  splendor. 

Enter  Architects,  Builders,  Engineers. 

DUMONT. 

Like  thunderheads  climbing  a  sunset  sky 

Their  columned  walls  arise. 

They  harness  the  moon  and  the  mountain  snow  j 

Butterflies  play  in  the  meadow, 

Winged  men  play  in  the  clouds. 


26  THE  LAND  OF  THE  A10UWAS 

Enter  Scholars. 

DUMONT. 

They  have  tracked  the  nameless  gods  in  stone, 
Girdled  the  seas  with  a  voice ; 
Spanned  the  rush  of  the  spinning  stars, 
Counted  the  pulse  of  the  sun. 

Enter  Artists. 

DUMONT. 

The  brush  has  borrowed  a  rainbow 

For  painting  hopes  and  dreams; 

The  chemistry  of  spring, 

And  the  homes  of  men  who  toil,  — 

The  smoke  and  the  sweat  of  toil, 

And  the  glory  of  life  outbursting 

From  broken  and  homely  humanity,  — 

Cello  and  harp  of  the  spirit 

In  the  angry  fingers,  passionate  fingers, 

Caressing  fingers  of  life. 

Enter  Musicians. 

DUMONT. 

Moonlit  chanting  pass, 

And  stiff-toned  hymns; 

Fiddle  assembles  the  feet, 

And  burly  horns  are  blowing. 

Sounds  gather  like  clouds,  — 

Groanings,  massy,  of  the  frame  of  the  earth ; 

Wind  in  the  autumn  leaves,  and  wind  in  the 

mountain  gorge 

And  the  dripping  of  summer  rain 
Enfold  the  fifing,  the  bellow, 
Of  insect  and  bison, 
The  growl  and  the  howl 
Of  grizzly  and  coyote. 

The  sounds  are  lover  and  lover, 
Enfolded.  — 


23 

From  the  world's  corners, 

Name  this  your  homeland, 

Land  of  the  Aiouwans. 
FLOCKS. 

In  blossoming  meadows 

The  wild  flock  is  feeding; 

Your  step,  your  voice,  — 

We  welcome  the  master. 
FRUITS. 

Blossom  on  vine,  and  blossom  in  thicket, 

Laden  tendrils  and  branches  that  bend,  — 

For  the  Dweller !    For  the  master ! 
DWELLERS. 

The  earth  is  our  mother, 

The  sky  is  our  father, 

They  love  and  cherish  us  forever. 

Soft  music;  the  spirits  steal  away  as  if  dismissed  by 
Evening  Sky.  As  the  music  deepens  in  magic,  enter 
Brother  of  April,  Sister  of  Summer,  and  Daughter  of  the 
Moonrise,  and  make  as  if  they  would  dance.  Coyote  joins 
them.  Evening  Sky  signals  to  them. 

EVENING  SKY.  Brother  of  April,  and  Daughter  of  the 
Moonrise,  stand  you  here;  you,  Sister  of  Summer,  over 
yonder;  and  you,  Coyote,  a  little  more  retired.  There  is 
a  singing  in  the  air.  Hearken.  When  it  pauses,  begin 
your  dance. 

(Chorus  off  stage.} 

When  sunlight  marries  the  swaying  branches, 

With  shadowy  dancings  the  rite  is  said, 

To  the  crooning  of  easeful  winds  and  waters 

Whispering  often,  "I  love  you,  I  love  you." 

Now  in  wedded  lilies  the  juices  bubble, 

And  saps  make  music  about  the  heart; 

With  flower  on  flower  the  spring  is  yearning 

For  the  Easter  of  love,  the  sacrament  of  love, 

The  passion  of  the  earth  and  the  passion  of  the  sky, 

Whispering  often,  "I  love  you,  I  love  you." 


24  THE  LAND  OF  THE  A1OUWAS 

The  earth  and  the  sky  are  beloved  and  lover, 
And  the  sky  bends  low; 
Sunset  and  moonrise,  intimate  glances, 
Soft  bright  hair,  the  soothing  of  twilights, 
Lip  to  delicate  lip  responsive, — 
Bending  low. 

Dance  of  the  four  ending  with  Brother  of  April  and 
Daughter  of  the  Moonrise  as  foreground  figures. 

(Chorus  off  stage.} 

And  this  is  the  joy  of  all  generations, 

Branches  are  bare  and  leaves  are  singing, 

And  the  hard  fruits  are  rounding  and  coloring,  — 

Goodly  is  the  bliss  when  a  child  is  born ! 

Lips  at  the  breast,  baby  lips  at  the  breast,  — 

0  Mother  Earth! 

The  wolf  cub  shall  sleep  on  his  dam's  shaggy  coat, 

And  the  spotted  fawn  nuzzle  the  udder ; 

The  infant  fairy  cradled  in  violets 

Suck  with  a  mouth  so  dewy  delicate ; 

And  human  children  shall  still  their  cries,  — 

Lips  at  the  breast,  baby  lips  at  the  breast ! 

0  Mother  Earth! 

Dance  of  the  four  which  carries  all  of  them  off  the 
stage  except  Coyote  who  takes  a  position  at  the  log  in 
the  rear. 

The  music  changes.  An  Indian  hunter  with  squaw  and 
children  crosses  the  stage  as  if  retreating  from  the  land. 

EVENING  SKY. 

The  vision  broadens,  my  own  race  passes 
As  runs  the  shadow  of  an  April  cloud ; 
And  the  white  men  come,  shaping  and  coloring 
The  land  with  their  lives,  — 
Behold !  —  Hearken ! 


THE  LAND  OF  THE  AIOUWAS  25 

Dumont  comes  forward  and  stands  beside  Evening 
Sky.  The  wand  changes  into  his  grasp.  Evening  Sky 
lifts  his  hands  in  blessing  and  then  begins  his  retreat  to  a 
position  beside  Coyote.  Music  in  the  pauses  interpreting 
the  changes. 

Enter  Hunters  and  Trappers ;  they  move  slowly  across 
the  stage. 

DUMONT. 

In  the  wilderness  the  rifles  bellow 

To  scurry  and  flurry  of  wing  and  paw; 

The  deer  feed  far  from  the  native  thicket. 

Enter  Woodmen,  Carpenters,  Farmers,  Drovers ;  their 
families  follow;  a  Schoolmistress  with  a  group  of  chil- 
dren. 

DUMONT. 

Axe  and  hammer  echo  in  rivers ; 
Cowbells  tinkle,  schoolbells  clang. 
By  bridge  and  hill  the  wagons  rattle. 

Enter  Teamsters,  Factory  Workers,  Mechanics. 

DUMONT. 

Tasseling  corn  waves  in  the  wind; 
Above  tall  chimneys  tasseling  smoke. 
Over  trafficking  cities  a  blur  of  smoke. 
The  vision  grows !    Behold,  hearken ! 

The  music  assumes  a  new  range  and  passes  from  splen- 
dor to  splendor. 

Enter  Architects,  Builders,  Engineers. 

DUMONT. 

Like  thunderheads  climbing  a  sunset  sky 

Their  columned  walls  arise. 

They  harness  the  moon  and  the  mountain  snow ; 

Butterflies  play  in  the  meadow, 

Winged  men  play  in  the  clouds. 


26  THE  LAND  OF  TEE  AIOUWAS 

Enter  Scholars. 

DUMONT. 

They  have  tracked  the  nameless  gods  in  stone, 
Girdled  the  seas  with  a  voice ; 
Spanned  the  rush  of  the  spinning  stars, 
Counted  the  pulse  of  the  sun. 

Enter  Artists. 

DUMONT. 

The  brush  has  borrowed  a  rainbow 

For  painting  hopes  and  dreams ; 

The  chemistry  of  spring, 

And  the  homes  of  men  who  toil,  — 

The  smoke  and  the  sweat  of  toil, 

And  the  glory  of  life  outbursting 

From  broken  and  homely  humanity,  — 

Cello  and  harp  of  the  spirit 

In  the  angry  fingers,  passionate  fingers, 

Caressing  fingers  of  life. 

Enter  Musicians. 

DUMONT. 

Moonlit  chanting  pass, 

And  stiff- toned  hymns; 

Fiddle  assembles  the  feet, 

And  burly  horns  are  blowing. 

Sounds  gather  like  clouds,  — 

Groanings,  massy,  of  the  frame  of  the  earth ; 

Wind  in  the  autumn  leaves,  and  wind  in  the 

mountain  gorge 

And  the  dripping  of  summer  rain 
Enfold  the  fifing,  the  bellow, 
Of  insect  and  bison, 
The  growl  and  the  howl 
Of  grizzly  and  coyote. 

The  sounds  are  lover  and  lover, 
Enfolded.  — 


A    000054189     6 


